Nightingale's Lament
by Aka-kun
Summary: The nightingale sings songs of mourning as it sings such an intoxicating melody for god who holds his cage. He sings for humanity but cries for its love. How will he sing when the birds grow jealous of him? They can smell the enticing whispers of him...


Title: Nightingale's Lament

Words from the author: Hey everyone thanks for reading my first story. I hope you enjoy it. But I have a little challenge. I made this story after a song I heard. Can you guess it? I'll attempt a oneshot for an anime/manga (so long as I know it) for you. I don't do lemons/limes though (sorry to those who like those). And for critics or people looking over my work, please give me any suggestions or pointers no matter how 'mean' it sounds so long as it isn't to bash me. Thank you.  
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Nightingale's Lament_**

_I was born of human's sins. I was stuffed in a cage to sing sweet songs for the humans that rule me. I sing for those of day but mainly those that stir at night. They can hear my song. I am humanity's nightingale._

The Song of the Owl's Knocking

I. Welcome to the Door

_I can remember seeing him. He was no one that I've seen around this town. Clad in brown with a red ribboned black top hat, he walked calmly into the entrance of town. He emitted that calming aura around him that even soothed the depths and almost grasped my heart softly, but I wouldn't allow it.. I can see that his body deceived his eyes. His eyes that were as feisty as the red color they were. They were a scattering fire…_

He walked out of thickets as he pushed the dead tree limbs aside, the trees sharing the same coloration as his hair. His hair seemed to tickle his lower back as it was kept in line by the sleek red silked hair tie that was wrapped cleanly to his mahogany hair at the nape of his neck. His skin was peaches that can be deliciously picked as if one could sink your teeth into it. Such skin that stood out against the purest whiteness the snow on the branches was. His cheeks depicted a slight tinge of pink as the coolness in the air had gotten to him. However, as crimson as his ribbons were, his eyes reflected the same coloration. A latent determination that wasn't shown with the calming earthy color his hair was. He flinched as he pushed a branch aside which allowed the morning light to shine directly in his eyes.

His slim figure eluded through the branches like an agile cat. He wore a classical themed white shirt with a dark crimson tie, neatly tied. He wore a black vest overtop that couldn't compare to the black shade of the lacquered casing that appeared to be a slightly smaller coffin. It contained a sacred cross marking engraved in pure gold on the casing. He seemed to carry it with no effort wasted on his back. He wore a tannish brown suit overtop his outfit and light tan pants. He wore fancy, aristocratic like black shoes. He appeared oddly very formal and aristocratic. But with the calmness he emitted, it intensified his eyes making them an object of intoxication.

He breathed out lightly emitting a transparent cloud of his warm breath compared to the cold weather as he glanced upward hearing a noise. In his line of vision, he can recall seeing a bird, perching itself warmly on a branch, looking down at him with threatening light colored eyes. It had dull red wings and it screeched lightly having been found by its current object of interest. He tilted his head lightly at the little bird in little curiosity as he walked onward to the town, not wanting to stay in the forest.

As he began walking into town, he began to hear such a tantalizing melody. Played on the flute..no, it wasn't the flute...piccolo? He wondered to himself. No, it was a lute. The melody played harmoniously with some soft underlying clacking of sandals. It was such a melody that seemed to want to wrap a person's very essence into it, as if intertwining their soul to the music. The stranger walked with his quietly skilled steps as he shuffled through the crowd with ease to see what was going on.

He could see that there were two female figures at the attention of the crowd. One was a woman playing the lute. She had short reddish brown hair, layered and appeared to feather out. She had skillful hands, thin fingers like his own though his hands were larger. She had long lashes and porcelain skin which appeared to make her a porcelain doll that can be seen through antique shop windows. Though, her clothes consisted of a white blouse with a dark reddish laced over shirt. She wore creamy white colored pants and simple warm shoes. Her eyes were closed as if to focus on the enrapturing song, as if trying to hear the song herself.

The other woman was rather exotic. She had long black hair, a bit past his hair length. Her skin appeared to be soft as ivory though it was a dark chocolate brown color. Just like dark chocolate, her eyes were semi-sweet though it was also bitter from her emotionless stare. Her eyes were almost purely black though there was a hint of dark brown that can be distinguished. A gold jeweled ornament hung from her forehead that was probably from her homeland which was guessed to be India. Her legs were slightly long and her hands still appeared slightly infantile. She appeared very agile as her bare feet danced like the fire in his eyes.

He turned away as the two females stopped their music and dancing. He could see as the crowd threw money out to them into a pan laid in front of their performance. As he began to walk away, he began to feel a hand grab out to him. It was the girl from India. She looked up to him with those dark colored eyes. She looked right into his crimson orbs and spoke one word to him in her soft, melodious voice. It was as mysterious as that song that drew him to the two ladies first. Her lightly pink glossed lips spoke the word that reverberated within him, that tormenting word.

"_Trapped._"

He looked to her as it seemed as if time stood still for the longest period. He could see her eyes that seemed to enrapture him. It was suffocating as if her indifferent aura was strangling him, keeping him on the very spot he stood. _Why.. Why?...Why did she know!_ He thought rapidly as his mind attempted to process the information.

He was quickly snapped out of his thoughts as the other woman came up to him, more likely to retrieve the girl, "What's the matter, Rosemary? You don't warm up to people, let alone strangers, too often. Not a bad catch though." She said smiling widely to the chestnut haired male. "Hmm, you don't appear familiar. Welcome to our small town though!" She said warmly as she extended her hand for him to shake.

He looked down to the peachy pale skin of the other who probably was around her late teens, maybe nineteen years old. He extended his arm as he made careful movements though contradicting his relaxed muscles as he shook her hand, able to feel the softness of her hand. As they released their hands from each other, each exchanged polite bows, "By the way, my name's Fleta. And as you've heard, my friend's name is Rosemary. She's also a doctor here in this town." She said smiling while patting the head of the Indian girl who blinked lightly looking up to Fleta with a childlike innocence sort of look, though remaining close to emotionless in facial expression. This Indian girl appeared to be a young child, perhaps fifteen?

"I'm eighteen, by the way. This one here is actually twenty one!" Fleta teased Rosemary while poking lightly at Rosemary's nose while Rosemary went a bit cross eyed to follow Fleta's finger movement. Another gesture that made her appear all the more like a young child.

The normally composed teen blinked at his guess was many years apart from the actual age of the Indian girl...err..woman. "A-ah, it's nice to meet the both of you," He said, still grasping his composure in his fingers. Each woman was so strange to him that he's seen. Fleta was in so much cheerful bliss that it reminded him of no comparison to any other woman that he's seen. The shorter, quieter woman had such an eluding emotionless stare and exotic appearance to begin with. She came with quite the surprise age wise as well.

Fleta blinked as she looked curiously to him as she looked him over a bit as if trying to figure something out. She seemed to be the more playful and childish of the two but vaguely he could still see nonetheless that childlike curiosity that gave her a kind of innocence like the Indian woman. "So what's your name?" She asked him.

He looked to her as he closed his eyes a bit, as if he was inquiring himself what his name was. He didn't take too much time to think to himself as he smiled nicely to the two ladies, very attractive for his usual calm demeanor.

"_My name is Rune Nightingale."_


End file.
